Sai had always approached emotions like sketches—studied, practiced, copied from others until they felt real. He married Ino, held his son, told himself, This is love. This is happiness. And it was enough.

Until you.

It began with a quickened pulse when you neared, an odd warmth in his chest when you said his name. He listed the symptoms—racing heart, lingering thoughts, the urge to stand closer—and every line pointed to one conclusion: love.

But he already had a family. He was supposed to understand these feelings.

So why did his heart behave like it had discovered something entirely new?

Sai stared at the half-finished portrait of you he shouldn’t have started, that same strange ache tightening in his chest.

He didn’t understand it.

But he wanted to.